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• This callout was amended on 10 July 2014 to better reflect the situation.

Palestinian girl from a West Bank village near Bethlehem doing homework at home that has been demolished and rebuilt 4 times. The recent demolition took place in June 2014, in the aftermath of the abduction of three Israeli settler youth and the following military campaign that Israel carried out in the West Bank. Some 50 Palestinians were left homeless in massive house demolitions carried out by the Israeli military.

Editor's note: This account was contributed by Hoda Elrayes. She's a 21 year old student, living in North Remal, Palestine. CB

We sat quietly in our small garden and listened, in a tone overwhelmed by sorrow, Jameel Nazmi Balata, 59-year-old, who used to be a driver for the British Council in the Gaza Strip for 20 years from the period of 1990 to 2010, unfolded the story of the murder of eleven members of his family. Most of whom were from a single family including his brother, his brother's wife and his nephews and nieces on 29th July, the second day of "Eid Al-Fitr", Feast of Fast-Breaking.

In Jabalia refugee camp, block 1, where Naim Nazmi Balata (45-year-old electrician) used to live with his wife Sahar (38-year-old) and six daughters: the eldest was Maryam (recently graduated from university), Doaa , Wafaa ,Hana, Aala and Israa as well as two sons Yahia and Alaa in an asbestos-roofed small house simply constructed. Naim feared the collapse of his asbestos house due to the air pressure resulting from the huge ongoing bombardment around. He had no option but to evacuate from his vulnerable house to his brother, Abeldkareem's more solid and stronger concrete house. He thought that it would be safer and less likely to collapse. He wanted to escape death but, actually, he escaped from death to death. He didn't know that neither asbestos nor concrete would protect his family from the Israeli war machine.

In Abdelkareem's house, half kilometer away from Naim's house, at 3pm , members of the two families were preparing to have lunch while Sahar and Yahia were on the doorstep. A so-called warning "knock-on-the-door" missile fell on the doorstep to kill both Sahar and Yahia( 8-year-old). Just less than five seconds later, four artillery missiles subsequently slammed the concrete house to flatten it and bury everyone deep under the rubble. The house was utterly devastated, it was shattered to tiny pieces and turned into powder.

Luckily, one of Naim's sons, Alaa (18-year-old), Abdelkareem along with his wife and three sons were out shopping for essentials. Unluckily, though, they left their 13-month-old grandson and daughter Hadeel with her uncle's family at the house. Hadeel has just finished her school leaving general exam,the "Tawjihi", with an excellent grade of 91.6% in scientific stream. They used to call her Dr. Hadeel as she wanted to study pharmacy for her bachelor degree. Abdelkareem was unable to celebrate his daughter's success, but instead he received condolences for her death.

Jameel was in his house which is also located in Jabalia Refugee Camp, nearly 250 meters away from Abdelkareem's house, when he heard the massive blast. He immediately rushed out of the house to know where the explosion is. Thick black smoke was billowing across the sky of the camp, he ran toward it to find out that it was his brother's house that was turned into a bloodbath.The overcrowded camp's residents and rescuers fearfully emerged to pull the torn-out corpses and injuries out from under the rubble.They were desperately looking at the charred bodies covered in dust to know whether someone was still breathing. No injuries were found. Only scattered and dispersed parts of bodies soaked in blood were beneath the debris.

Abdelkarim arrived a few minutes later. He passed out promptly at the sight of blood and utter devastation. Ambulances arrived to transfer Abdelkareem to Kamal-Adwan hospital to recover and the bodies to be transferred to morgues.The corpses then were buried in a nearby cemetery in the evening time as the mortuary refrigerators were full of bodies that there wasn't any place for new corpses. A few hours later after losing his consciousness for a while, Abdelkareem woke up asking Jameel to tell him what happened. Both Abdelkareem and Naim were civilians. Naim whose finger was cut, couldn't hold a gun.

Now, Alaa , the only survivor from Naim's family can barely speak. He's in a severe shock. However, Jameel said that he and his family are surrounding Alaa and will make sure that he stays with them."He once had a home, family and beautiful memories. Now, he has only his uncles and cousins" said Jameel .He will be responsible for registering for Alaa at the university for a bachelor degree."He needs to get education and I will help him to do so", Jameel recounted. Jameel is now trying to do his best to take care of his nephew in his house along with his 18-member family consisting of his wife , daughters, married sons and their children in his four-floor building as well as 29 of his displaced relatives whose houses were completely destroyed, they came from Beit Hanoun, northern the Gaza Strip. That building Jameel built from his savings from his twenty-year work in the British Council was also a shelter for another 65 earlier in the war time who returned back to their houses a few days ago when a 72-hour truce was announced.

What happened to Jameel's brother, nephews, nieces and Alaa happened to many families in the Strip. Jameel was tired while telling me the story but also wanted to speak. He wanted people to know that a "knocking-on-the-door" missile which is claimed to be only a warning missile that carries no or little explosive load killed a mother and her son. He wanted as many as possible of people to know that his family members had no time nor chance to escape in less than five seconds.He wanted the whole world to know how it feels to see the carnage of the beloved ones and how pressing on a button from an artillery or a drone led to butchery of many families and ruined the lives of those who survived with a long-term pain. Pain that time wouldn't heal.

Editor's note: This account was contributed by Hoda Elrayes. She's a 21 year old student, living in North Remal, Palestine. CB

Now, it's nearly midnight when the World War III will seemingly restart as it does every midnight. I had to pick up a pen and start writing while I'm lying on the floor using my phone light. I want to scream but I cannot be heard. My voice wouldn't be louder than the sounds of the drones heavily hovering in the sky. Therefore, I had no choice but to write and make every night's wish "The wish to survive". I was lucky enough to survive last night. Now I'm wondering whether I'll survive again tonight. My family and I are sitting together in one room in the middle of our house where there are no windows to avoid any possibility of glass being shattered upon us. However, it doesn't feel like in the

middle of my house, it actually feels like I'm in the middle of a battlefield defenseless, unarmed and confused whether to lie on the field (floor) trying to protect myself from the missiles or to open my arms wide to display no concealed weapons, so that I don't get attacked. As I'm writing this, I check my family who are all seemingly asleep next to each others in this room just to make sure that they don't fall asleep deeply in case of any emergency that would require us to flee the house as fast as possible in less than 5 minutes as maximum. I know that they're not asleep though. They actually try to sleep but fail as usual due to the horrific sounds and the shaking of the house whenever there's a relatively near blast. I was exhausted to the extreme many nights that I wished if I were temporarily deaf just to have a peaceful night. It feels like a as if I live in a laboratory to test weapons' performance as if these weapons are being experimented on us to develop weapons industry.

War experience forced me to think a thousand times before doing anything .One night, I was extremely tired and about to sleep but couldn't fearing any incident that require me to be awake and cautious. Luckily I didn't sleep as all of a sudden I started to smell a strange thing that's similar to gunpowder. I switched in the radio of my phone to know what's happening around. You can tell I've never used the radio as it's a kind of out of dated source to know the news but that source was truly helpful in the rare presence of the laptops, internet and TVs after all the strip plunged into the darkness when the main

power plant has been struck. On the radio, there were statements by the ministry of health urging people to close the windows and alerting people that they may have sensations of burning in the eyes and an immense headache. I reflexively jumped up to close the windows. I did my best to cover my nose to smell nothing and succeeded yet failed to avoid the feeling of my eyes burning and the severe headache all that night. In wartimes, you have no choice, you need to think carefully even in the most apparent simple things. You need to choose among the dangerous alternatives. The less dangerous option is what is clearly what you have to select: whether to close the windows to avoid the suffocating air or to open them in an attempt to avoid the smashed pieces of glass.

The electricity is another story. Once the electricity deficit reached 100%. We had to find a solution .My dad decided to go out to buy some petroleum for a generator we used to use in many previous times when the electricity blackout was severe. I insisted to go with him and he agreed finally. As my dad was anxiously driving trying to take the shortest and the safest way to the petrol station, I was shockingly looking at the displaced people on the roadsides who, in the blink of an eye, had their homes destroyed and lost almost

everything to end up homeless in the streets as many became afraid of staying at the UN school shelters after being bombarded several times. I've never seen something resembling this. Yes I've experienced two wars before and am used to the sounds of bombs since I was a kid, but this time, things got unbearable and much more disastrous. It's the boiling August now. We're trying to cope with the hot weather with very limited electricity and water as I have three hours of electricity a day due to the usage of generator. I was supposed to preparing for my summer semester's final exams nowadays but instead I don't even know whether the semester will be postponed or completely canceled after the end of the war. I don't even know when the war will end. After my university got struck by an Israeli F16 missile and partially destroyed, I became unsure of the start of the next semester, which is supposed to start in the first of September. I didn’t imagine spending the feast holiday "Eid Al-Fitr" crying over the death of children and not daring to venture more than the footstep of my house terrified of a sudden missile or a shrapnel thrown out in all directions hitting me instead of cheering and enjoy xchanging the feast greeting ,the family visits as well as the usual hanging out with my friends.

Now all my dreams and thoughts about the future concerning the accomplishment of my bachelor degree successfully and then seeking a masters degree to be someone knowledgeable who has an impact on the society and who leave a mark in this word just seem very pointless and trivial. I simply could be any of the victims. Death was and still is so near whenever I feel my house shaking from the heavy random bombings. I don't know what the future will hold. Nothing seems bright. I cannot expect anything as a war could suddenly start and end everything outrageously. I realized that my life which I was grumbling about and describing as boring and full of obstacles from the lack of electricity to restriction on borders and the siege imposed

on us was actually not that bad or better say a very good one in comparison to what's happening now. What's happening now is incomparable to anything. Nothing is worse than a war. In wartimes, your wishes become very simple of staying safe and having your family and friends around you alive. You would wish if you could walk in the streets normally to feel the fresh air on your face. I live on earth but feel as if I live through hell now. Agony and misery is growing day by day. No one is safe and everyone has a story to tell. Mine might be the less miserable. Others actually encountered tragedies and buried their beloved ones. Many others cannot tell their story because they either bled to death with no ability to be rescued or died immediately under the rubble of their houses. I am literally tired of over thinking and of this brutal madness. I just couldn't be stronger. I am even ashamed of expressing my tiredness, which is incomparable to others. I feel guilty and selfish to complain and think about myself and my future.

I am very lucky that I miraculously survived and safe till now. The bitterness I feel is tearing my heart out, yet it's nothing in comparison with what hundreds of thousands felt and had to go through.